


Two Heart Pose

by almaasi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Babies, Breastfeeding, Chestfeeding, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Dean Winchester, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Illustrated, Lawyer Sam Winchester, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex, Openly Bisexual Dean Winchester, Protective Castiel, Protective Dean Winchester, Romance, Self Care, Separation Anxiety, Sharing a Bed, Single Parent Dean Winchester, Supportive Castiel, Supportive Sam Winchester, Yoga, Yoga Instructor Castiel, overwhelmed Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 06:10:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20559530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almaasi/pseuds/almaasi
Summary: Dean always has his hands full – baby in one arm, everything else in the other. He has no time for self-care, and even thinking about doing something like yoga seems like a waste of brainpower. But this yoga instructor is super hot, and uncommonly gentle, which changes things. His name is Castiel. And his hands are open and willing to help.





	Two Heart Pose

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** Cis male lactation & breastfeeding (aka "chestfeeding"). It is possible in real life, but highly unusual without pharmaceutical intervention.
> 
> Beta'd by Katie.

  


Dean always had his hands full. Usually it was in the metaphorical sense – on any given day, he was harried, overworked, flustered, and fatigued. But often, on days like today, like right now, his hands were full in the literal sense.

He had his crying baby daughter hanging from his shoulders, one hand against the sling on his front, just for extra head support. Over one arm he had her diaper bag with bottles and a blankie and bibs and a spit-up cloth, and in his hand he held his phone, because he’d taken it out of his pocket half an hour ago and hadn’t yet had the opportunity to put it back. Hung on one arm – honestly, he wasn’t sure which arm at this point, they were both numb – there was a bag of take-out dangling by slowly-stretching plastic handles.

He stood outside an Indian take-out place and bounced on his feet, bending his knees, singing a mashup of Deep Purple and the _Frozen_ soundtrack, having forgotten which was which. His eyes were unfocused, and showed a certain emotional hollowness that Oscar-winning actors could only dream of replicating; his hair was ungelled, there were dark circles under his eyes, and his back hurt.

There were not enough synonyms for ‘a lot’ in the English language to explain how badly his back hurt. If someone brushed by him by accident, he would’ve screamed. If he lay down, he would’ve screamed. If all the pain suddenly vanished by magic, he would’ve assumed there was something drastically wrong with his nerves, and screamed.

Okay, maybe the urge to scream was more of a coping mechanism, pain aside.

There was a lot of screaming happening inside and outside his head, these days. Babies didn’t really like it when you screamed back at them.

Dean was waiting for Sam to come and pick him up, then take their dinner home to eat, but there was traffic. Apparently he’d be “fifteen minutes”, soon corrected to “forty-five”, and Dean couldn’t see his phone screen, but would’ve bet the whole damn baby that the update was now “maybe I’ll be there tomorrow, who knows”.

So he bounced. And hummed. And stared into the void.

The void was not actually a void, but a jammed-up one-way road with a library on the other side, situated on a grassy lawn, on a perfectly pleasant street, in a perfectly pleasant town, on a sunny summer evening. It was about as close to a void as Dean had ever seen.

Actively fighting the urge to topple face-first into the traffic, Dean turned himself around and hobbled away from the road. He stood and stared at a brick wall, breathing out.

There was a poster on the wall, handwritten in red Sharpie pen on sky-blue paper.

_Need to RELAX?_ the poster asked.

Dean grunted. He didn’t appreciate being shouted at in all-caps.

_Want to Reduce Pain, Get Stronger, Improve Flexibility, and Increase your Sex Stamina?_  
_Come on UP! Free Yoga Classes for Beginners on Wednesdays!_  
[⤴]

Dean lifted his head and looked up at the sky. His back screamed at him.

He blinked, then looked back at the poster.

It took him a second, but then he realised the arrow was directing him to an open doorway in the brick with a stairwell inside. Not the sky.

God, if his brain melted out of his ears and fell on the scalding-hot sidewalk and spread out like pink ice-cream, sizzling, there was no possible way it could be more fried than it was now.

Dean stared at the doorway.

Maybe they had chairs inside. He could sit on a chair. And put Emma down on another. And a bag down on another. And the food down on another. And his feet up on another. Dean disappeared into a fantasy with multiple chairs, eyes watering in desire.

And maybe there’d be hot girls. Hot girls did yoga, right? Wearing tight yoga pants and sticking their asses in the air?

Okay, that was a deal-breaker. Mind made up, Dean started to climb the stairs.

Oh, it was cool and dark inside. Air conditioning, no lights. His back screamed a little less. Then he realised Emma was screaming less, too, and he sighed in relief as she mumbled into silence and shut her eyes.

Dean approached the top of the stairs, and saw the amber glow of sunlight reflecting off a varnished wooden floor. A gentle male voice echoed slightly, as he gave instructions.

Soon the echoes condensed into words, and Dean heard, “_Now we don’t want to get up too quickly, make sure you take your time... Breeeathe deeply. Whoooo. Let it all go._”

Dean snorted, letting it all go quickly.

He emerged in an arched, open doorway, his bulky, overloaded figure filling out the entire entrance. Before him was a big, open room, with church-like wooden ceiling beams and a pointed roof, red bricks descending all the way to the floor, marked only by a single circular window, nearer the eaves than the ground. The place was pretty large, but not massive – about the size of Dean’s middle-school gym. At the front of the room – a badminton court? a community hall? – there was a raised platform absolutely covered in plants; big leafy overgrown jungle-dwelling sorts with trailing fronds and gigantic leaves, as well as tiny little houseplants in tiny teacups.

Dean wondered why he was so captivated by the space, when he could see from the corner of his eyes that there were indeed hot girls in tight yoga pants, as well as hot guys, especially the dark-haired instructor, sitting cross-legged on the platform, facing the room.

Must’ve been the cool air, Dean supposed. The calmness of the place. The air of serenity that descended from the eaves and caressed his face and exhausted body with love and peace.

Dean shut his eyes, enjoying the vibe.

Because, yeah, there was definitely a _vibe_.

“And with that,” the instructor said, his voice flowing gently, harmonising with the vibration of love in the walls, “we finish our session. Don’t jump up; as I said, wind down slowly. Get up when you feel you’re ready. If you’re interested in a second session, please take a flier from the desk at the back of the hall as you leave, and you can sign up online. Our website is updated and more secure than ever, so you can worry as little about your details as you will about anything else, once you’ve had a few sessions.”

A rumble of amusement went around the hall in response to that, and Dean opened his eyes to see about half of the yoga students had gotten to their feet, some stretching, some shaking their arms out, some rolling up their mats.

Dean hastened out of the way as people started to go towards him, and he ambled from the doorway apologetically, then realised he was in the way of the desk with the fliers, so ambled back the way he’d come, ducking people, apologising, giving nervous smiles.

Sweaty, hot women, and sweaty, hot men passed him and all he could do was apologise for getting in the way. Jeez, becoming a father really did change him. He darted around the last oncomer and then breathed a sigh of relief, looking around the empty hall for a chair.

There were no chairs. And he doubted he’d be allowed to sit on the table.

“Hello,” came the instructor’s voice. He approached with confidence, but moved slow. His tanned skin had a healthy glow, not misted with sweat like everyone else’s had been. He had sleek, dark hair, just a little too long but remaining upright, and eyes that didn’t match the rest of him but at the same time looked perfect there – twin oases in a desert – and he walked too easily, too slowly, like a cat with wily intentions but no rush to get things done. He crossed through sunbeams, and his bare legs flashed white.

Dean locked eyes with him, flushing in embarrassment as he caressed Emma’s soft head. “Hi. Sorry. I just. Saw your poster. And maybe figured. I dunno.” He tried to grin but feared it came out as a grimace, given how heavy his face felt. “Maybe you had chairs.”

The man came to stand before Dean, a picture of physical health; wide shoulders, thick biceps and thighs, a careless cock to his posture, one bare foot posed with his toes spread. Dean realised he’d just given the guy a very obvious head-to-toe look-see, and Dean’s breath suddenly puffed out, eyes darting away.

“We have no chairs,” the instructor said. “We do have a chair _pose_, but I mean you no offence – you don’t look like you’re ready for that.”

Dean chuckled a little, ducking his head. So this guy was hot _and_ funny? Not fair.

“You seem to have a lot... _weighing_ on you,” the instructor said, eyes roaming between Dean’s baby and the bags he’d lost count of, then, finally, to Dean’s head. He gazed just _over_ Dean’s head, in fact, and Dean wondered what was up there. “Oh dear. Come.” The man stepped away, still looked back and beckoning with one hand. “We may not have chairs but we do have comfortable mats.”

“Uh, no! No-no,” Dean shook his head, “I didn’t come for the yoga. I got a brother,” he lifted one elbow, hoping it was the one draped with take-out, “and he’s gonna pick me up any minute now.” He doubted it, but it was a good an excuse as any to avoid lying on someone else’s sticky yoga mat.

“It’ll only take a few minutes,” the man said, coming back to Dean, taking two bags from him, then his phone, and Dean felt so weightless he almost flinched, thinking he’d floated a couple inches off the ground. He clung to his baby, just wanting her to be safe.

“Really,” the man insisted, a kind smile lighting his eyes and crinkling by his oasis eyes. “Even one minute of relaxation can help you get through the rest of the day. What’s your name?”

Dean hesitated, but then followed his bags, wondering if he’d just been robbed in the nicest way possible. “Uh. Dean. Dean Winchester.”

“Oh, that’s a beautiful name,” the instructor said, placing Dean’s bags on his platform, the food on top of the baby-supply bag. “Both soft and hard names, I like that.”

Dean didn’t know what that meant, but he nodded. “Yeah, uh. Awesome. It’s a name, I guess. It works for me.”

“I’m sure it does. Castiel. Call me Cas.” The man stuck out his hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Dean cradled Emma’s head with his other hand, and shook Castiel’s hand. He’d never felt a stronger handshake, and his back tingled with the unexpected thought that this guy probably gave awesome handjobs. At that thought, Dean blushed, and stammered, “That’s a nice. Good. Yeah, I mean, your h-hands are awesome and. Uh-huh.” He sucked his bottom lip, gazing dazedly into Castiel’s amused eyes. “That came out weird.”

“What’s your baby’s name?” Castiel asked, laughter-shined eyes dropping to Dean’s baby.

“What? Oh. Emma. Four months old.”

“Oh, that’s why she’s so little,” Castiel said, coming closer, placing his hand on the sling, just behind Emma’s back. “Does she sleep a lot?”

Dean snorted so hard it hurt. “You gotta be kidding me. She doesn’t sleep, ever.”

“She’s asleep now.”

“Fluke. Swear, this is the first time in four months she’s ever shut her eyes.”

“Ah,” Castiel raised his eyebrows, eyes glinting with delight. “It’s a sign, then. Maybe she’ll stay asleep long enough for you to undress and relax with me.”

In any other context, if a hot guy wearing nothing but a holey t-shirt and boxer-briefs requested that Dean undress and relax with him, he’d take that as a come-on. He knew it wasn’t, but even so, a fluttery grin crossed his face, and he reached up with an empty hand to stroke the back of his neck.

“Come on, Dean, live a little,” Castiel said playfully, touching Dean’s waist, then pulling back. “It won’t cost you anything, and I really do think it would be of benefit to you...”

Dean swallowed, wondering if he could. He looked down at Emma, both hands touching her rounded back. “Um.” He glanced at Castiel. “Any chance I could keep her on me? Just, got nowhere to put her, and I really, _re-heally_ don’t want her to wake up.”

Castiel started to grin. “I’ve done pre- and post-natal yoga with mothers, but I’ve never done post-natal yoga with fathers. Perhaps this’ll be a challenge for both of us.”

Dean shot him a grateful smile. “Okay. So. Where do I—?”

“Slip your shoes and socks off, just anywhere, and – oh, maybe take the belt and button off your jeans, anything constricting. If you’re not averse, I can hold her while you get your jacket off.”

Dean did as he was told, shoes and socks first, then unbuckled his belt one-handedly, trying not to notice the fact Castiel was watching him. Dean wasn’t sure if there really was a charge of attraction between them, or whether yoga instructors were just the flirty, tree-hugging, don’t-mind-me-I’m-just-casually-naked-to-be-closer-to-nature sorts of people.

Belt slithered on top of his shoes, Dean kept the sling on, and began wriggling to get his jacket off his arms, but Castiel stepped forward, hushing gently, taking Emma’s weight inside the sling, bobbing her the way Dean did, while Dean worked with the space the slack fabric gave him, and freed himself from his jacket. His t-shirt clung to his lower back, damp with sweat.

“Good,” Castiel said, returning Dean’s baby to hang from his chest. The return of a downward pull made him grimace. “Okay. Now, Dean, what we’re going to do is very easy, and hopefully won’t take too long, but just in case, I suggest you inform your brother where to find you. I’d rather not have emergency communication interrupt your relaxation.”

“Ahh, it’s fine,” Dean waved a hand. “He’s stuck in traffic.”

“Oh,” Castiel said, immediately at ease. He knew as well as Dean did how long it would take Sam to get here. “In that case,” he held out both hands before Dean, palms up, “I’ll help you lie down on the mat and we’ll go from there.”

“Lie down how?”

“Flat on your back, as comfortable as you can.”

Dean tried to crouch and lie down without help, but couldn’t hobble the right way to have the confidence he wouldn’t jostle Emma. So he got back up and took Castiel’s hands, and accepted his help to sit back on his ass – grunting, a flinch of pain – then rolled back so the floor took his weight.

“Hgnghhhhhaaaaaaah,” Dean roared, strangling his cry, not wanting to wake his baby. A tear squeezed into his eye, blinding him for a moment.

“That’s it.” Castiel knelt beside Dean, hands on his knees. His voice turned deeper, rolling, purring; “Do you feel the ground supporting you? The Earth has your weight now, Dean, you don’t need to carry it any more. Arms by your sides. Let your feet fall whichever way they like.”

Dean was still breathing through the pain, lips narrowed, hands around Emma.

“Let your spine sink down,” Castiel said. “Slowly. Slooowly. It’s okay. You won’t fall.”

Dean puffed out a grin, eyebrows wrinkling. “Where am I gonna fall to?”

“It’s a natural response,” Castiel explained. “When you’ve been holding on for so long, Dean, _so_ long, just gripping the very last end of your rope, it can feel terrifying to let go. Even sinking an inch lower to the ground can feel like jumping off a cliff. Our bodies hold that fear inside us, it happens to me, it happens to all my students, and it happens to you. Tell your body it’s okay to press down, the Earth has you in its safe grip.”

Dean thought that sounded like frou-frou bullshit, but it also sounded nice said in that voice – and it was kind of a metaphor rather than literal, right? The guy just meant ‘you’re stressed and your back hurts, try and relax’.

So Dean did. He shut his eyes, and although it probably took him a full thirty seconds, he let every set of muscles but his arms spread out on the mat. He tried to bear with the pain, letting it hurt as he relaxed, rather than recoiling and tensing to make it stop.

“Good,” Castiel said lightly. “Oh, that’s much better. Isn’t that better?”

Dean hummed a note, eyes stuck closed. “Still hurts.”

“Can you put your arms by your sides, now?” Castiel urged. “Take as long as you need.”

Dean wondered why it would take him more than a second. But then he realised it had already taken him five, not counting the time that had elapsed between this time and the last time Castiel told him to put his arms by his sides. Couldn’t he take instructions, or what?

“Your baby is safe,” Castiel said softly. “I’m watching her. She’s sound asleep. I think she might even be tireder than you.”

Dean managed a tight smirk, but it faded quickly. He hadn’t realised he was so clingy with her. Why couldn’t he let go?

“Okay,” Castiel said, recognising that Dean was having trouble. “That’s alright, we can try something else. Can you feel your feet?”

Dean scrunched and unscrunched his toes, then nodded. “Mm-hm.”

“All right. Now keep your heels on the mat, but eeeeease your feet apart, like they’re repelling magnets, moved in slow motion. Imagine you’re drawing a rainbow with your toes.”

Dean let his feet part, and though his feet were some distance apart, him being bowlegged and all, he imagined the two halves of pretty glowing rainbow appearing in the air as his toes eased apart.

“Very _good_,” Castiel said, in the tone someone might use for a preschooler who’d just done their first finger painting. “That’s excellent, Dean. Let them pop back up.”

In a silence without instruction, Dean felt his head go blank, the weight of his body noticeably grounded, but floating at the same time.

“Now... what I’d like you to do, is bend both your knees. Not all at once! Slowly. Lift your feet _up!_ off the ground. Pull your thighs to your ches— baby.” He chuckled softly, and Dean grinned along with him. “Thaaat’s it, hold it there. Do you feel what’s happening in your back?”

Dean breathed out, slowly, then mumbled, “‘S heavy. S’ helpin’.” Something in his spine clicked back into place, and he suddenly felt less nauseous.

“Excellent. I heard that,” Castiel said, a smile in his voice. “Next: slowly, no rush, I want you to ease your right leg back to the ground, leaving your left where it is. Keep your feet in the air.”

Dean’s thigh began to tremble halfway down, and he gave a huff of discomfort.

“Heel down.”

Dean put his heel down, and the shaking stopped.

“Okay, lift up and keep going.”

Dean kept going, and didn’t shake.

He sighed in relief as his right leg touched the mat.

“Pull up, and do the same with the left. Don’t rush. Deep breaths.”

Dean went slowly, finding that his left leg didn’t shake on the way down, but on the way up.

As his thighs met beside Emma, a fart flew out of him with a _pfft!_ and Dean scowled, clenching—

“No, no, relax, relax,” Castiel chuckled. “Doesn’t that feel better? Releasing the tension in your gut.”

Dean pouted, but admitted privately that yes, he now felt a lack of tension, even though he hadn’t known it was there in the first place. “You just try’na embarrass me?”

“Yes,” Castiel said. “Absolutely.”

Dean peeked out from under his lashes, starting to grin when he saw Castiel was gazing right at him, smiling.

“Come on, now,” Castiel’s eyes turned to Dean’s legs again, “I want you to lower both legs, and lie flat again.”

Dean did so, gradually, while asking, “I thought yoga was all about specific poses, bending into weird shapes. Supporting your weight on random limbs.”

“As it gets harder, it is like that, yes,” Castiel said. “But you really are in no state for that, I’m afraid, and I have to start you with the basics. Lying down properly is much harder than people realise. Tree pose, also – that’s standing upright, relaxed, with no slouching – it takes some practise.”

Dean now lay flat, his back pulsing with what felt suspiciously like healing energy. His legs and belly felt much better, which made him realise how much tension was still gripping his upper half in comparison.

“Are you ready to put your arms by your sides?”

Dean opened his eyes and looked down, loving gaze set on the most precious bundle he’d ever been gifted. She rested with her pink cheek squished on his heart, eyes shut, tiny, fat little lips open on his t-shirt. There was a wet circle where she’d drooled.

“I promise you,” Castiel said, sitting closer, weight on one hip and thigh and hand, “no harm will come to her. She’s just one movement away.”

Dean wet his lips, looking back to his daughter. “I guess I worry about her a lot,” he admitted.

“Mm,” Castiel said, nodding, as if he hadn’t already observed.

“S-She, uh.” Dean shrugged a stiff shoulder. “She was a surprise.”

“A good surprise?”

“Yeah. Hell yeah. But no, I mean a real proper surprise, for me, four months ago.” He pressed his lips together in a sturdy smile. “I didn’t know her mom was pregnant.”

Castiel looked taken aback. “Did you not—?” He stifled his question, perhaps second-guessing whether it was polite or appropriate to ask why Dean hadn’t spent the gestation period with his mate.

“One-night-stand,” Dean answered with a smile, seeing Castiel tip his head up, lips parted with understanding. “Yeah, don’t _ever_ have unprotected sex.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Castiel smiled.

Dean looked down at Emma in quiet awe, squeezing lightly. “She’s my little STD.” Castiel breathed a confused laugh, and Dean had to explain, “Sexually Transmitted Daughter.”

Castiel let out a proper laugh, head turned away so he didn’t wake Emma. He had a wonderful, rumbly laugh, and it rang through the hall like a gong through a temple, reverberating and shaking gold dust from the walls.

Dean grinned back at him, mesmerised by the beauty in his features. It was a different beauty from what Dean had seen before. Yeah, the guy was effortlessly hot, in a sex-haired hippie sort of way, but now, after helping Dean relax, he was soft around the edges, and there was kindness in him that Dean had no way to see before; he smiled with genuine joy in his eyes, and seemed pretty taken with Emma, too, which earned him a good number of points in Dean’s book.

“You’re really beautiful,” Dean said gently, dazzled by the sight of this angel with a circular halo of sunlight right behind his head. “Not like handsome, but like...” Dean sighed, inexplicably at ease. “Like...”

Castiel didn’t seem to mind that Dean never finished his sentence. His eyes twinkled blue, a subtle smile lifting the corners of his lips. “Thank you, Dean. That’s very kind of you to say.”

Dean hummed, eyes down, a tiny smile on his lips. “God, that sounds like I’m hitting on you.”

Castiel chuckled, ducking his head, eyes down. “That could be permissible.”

“What?”

Castiel shrugged a shoulder, looking even more ravishing than before. “I enjoy compliments from beautiful men with beautiful babies.”

Dean felt his heart squeeze. “Heh.”

Castiel grinned wider. He drew a breath, turning his head. “Umm...”

Dean was thrilled that he’d reduced such a calm, confident, and collected instructor to say something as helpless as ‘um’. That might’ve been the best part of his day.

“Um,” Castiel said again, before clearing his throat, eyes back to Dean. “Do you think there’s any chance – any chance at all, that I might convince you to let go of your daughter and lay your arms by your sides?”

Dean loosened his grip, hands hovering an inch on either side of Emma’s warm bean form. He moved away, then flinched back, only to shut his eyes and push out a breath, and lay his hands all the way down, fingertips loosely pressed to the mat.

“Wonderful, Dean.” Castiel sounded so pleased. “Feel proud of yourself. I know it might not feel like it ought to be, but that was a big achievement.”

Dean swallowed, and tried not to smile.

“Lay your hands palm-up.”

Dean did.

“Relax your shoulders. Feel them sinking to the floor, feel the ground accept their touch like a hug.”

Dean started to feel a pull in his neck, and shuffled slightly to give his neck a stretch. Emma stirred on his chest, and Dean’s hands shot back to her, head up, but he didn’t touch her. She scrunched her tiny baby nose, then relaxed, and fell back asleep. A breath gushed from Dean, and he let his head fall back, eyes shut.

“She’s adorable,” Castiel said, a tremble in his voice.

Dean peered at him, smiling when he saw Castiel had crawled onto his elbows, hips to the floor, head turned to look closely at Emma. His heat was pouring against Dean’s bicep, his personal scent tickling at Dean’s taste buds. He smelled like floor polish, potting soil, and one of those natural-ingredient-only shampoos that were packaged plastic-free, but the combination was as perfect as his oasis eyes and long, black lashes, fluttering as he gazed at the baby.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Castiel mused, his voice lower and sweeter than a deep-Earth cavern full of secrets. “Everything that makes you _you_, Dean, she’s half of that. And half of someone else. And she’s a whole new person. She didn’t exist before, but now she does.” He reached out and touched a single fingertip to Emma’s head, stroking that faint swirl of hair on her crown. “I wonder what she’s thinking about.”

“Boobs, probably,” Dean uttered, before grinning. “I mean, aren’t we all?”

Castiel’s eyes darted to Dean’s, a tiny bit reserved now. He offered a plain smile, then sat back, ass on the soles of his feet, hands on his knees again.

“Um,” he said once more, looking away, but to think, not reset. He let out a breath, and turned back to Dean, saying, “Stretch your hands – up over your head. Let the backs of your hands rest on the mat.”

Dean did so, but kept his attention on Castiel, wondering what had changed between them. In the following three minutes, as Dean fixed his shoulders, then rolled each knee across his other thigh to stretch his hips in turn, Castiel kept looking away, to a clock on the back wall, to his plants on the platform, to the open doorway. His instructions remained clear and caring, his voice the same timbre as before, but it was spoken towards other directions, and his attention didn’t linger on Dean’s body the way Dean was certain it did before, nor on his baby. From this, Dean could finally conclude: Castiel _was_ flirting with him before, and now he wasn’t.

With his foggy, fried brain, Dean gradually sorted through what he’d said, and almost rolled his eyes when he realised where he went wrong. “I’m bi,” he said, catching Castiel’s attention and drawing his eyeline back to him.

“What?”

Dean shrugged a shoulder. “I’m bisexual. I like women, yeah, but uh, dudes as well. Boobs _and_... not boobs.”

“Oh.” A smile flashed up the side of Castiel’s face, but he schooled it away, and he glanced down, then looked back at Dean, remarking softly, “It’s very kind of you to share. I’m honoured to know that about you.”

“I just thought—” Dean grinned, head rolling to the side, then back to Castiel. “Maybe you were interested. I dunno.”

“Ah. Um.” Castiel looked down, smiling at his lap. “I didn’t really— I-I-I, um.”

Dean’s grin widened, his right leg shifting closer to nudge Castiel on the ass. “Now who’s the stuttering wreck? Hmm, seems familiar.”

A laugh burst from Castiel – “Hah-_huh_!” – hand slapping to his mouth once it was out, eyes darting to the baby. His bright gaze darkened and his hand fell as he realised he’d woken Emma, and she made unhappy sounds, squirming, frowning, eyes still shut.

“Oh, no, no, no, shhhh, shhh,” Castiel hushed, both hands touching Emma’s back, while one of Dean’s hovered nearby, having got there second. “Shh, baby, shhh, it’s okay. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Go back to sleep, let your daddy relax, it’s okay—”

Emma started to properly cry, hiccuping out wails, which soon became drones of sound, and Dean took her to his chest and sat up, legs rising as counterweights as he rolled up to perch on his ass. He still ached, but it took until he was bouncing his daughter on his chest, swaying her, legs crossed painlessly, before he realised how much better he felt.

Castiel sat nearby, resting on one hand, smiling. He gazed at Emma, and how Dean held her – and as Dean watched the other guy, he wondered whether there was more than just delight in Castiel’s eyes. It looked like... want. Longing. He looked at Emma the way Dean would’ve looked at a chair if he’d seen one earlier.

Specifically, how he’d look at a chair with somebody else’s name on it. Not his chair. Not for him.

“You never had one,” Dean surmised, still bouncing, rocking, eyes on Castiel. “But you wanna have one?”

Castiel seemed surprised, meeting his eyes.

Dean grinned. “Come on. I’m not the only one who sees a stranger and can figure out what they need. You wanna hold her?” He kept rocking, keeping his baby close, but the question went out with his whole heart.

Castiel looked stunned. And for good reason, Dean supposed; he barely even let _Sam_ hold Emma, let alone strangers. Given all the hassle Castiel went through to get Dean to let go of her, he’d likely made the correct assumption that there was no point even asking to take her.

“Really,” Dean said, leaning forward. “C’mon, you got this.”

He was kind of talking to himself, but Castiel crossed his legs and leaned in too, and Dean handed his darling over. Castiel cradled her head to support it, and as he took her weight, his face split into a smile, eyes sparkling like never before, absolute _glee_ showing in every mannerism, every line on his face. “Hello, baby,” he said in the softest voice, cradling Emma to his chest, head bent to peer into her curious green eyes. She still grizzled, but she kept her eyes open, as captivated by Castiel’s stare as Dean was. “_Hello_, baby,” Castiel said again, bouncing and rocking like Dean did. “You’re doing such a good job, aren’t you? You are. All this living, so _exhausting_. And I’d know. I was as new to creation as you are, once. But I was never this small.”

Dean chuckled, stretching his legs out straight, weight on his hands. He then crooked one leg upright, and leaned forward, resting his armpit over his knee, whole body leaning close to his new friend.

“You know,” Castiel said, in a simple tone of voice that made Dean unsure whether he was speaking to Emma or _him_, “there’s a certain kind of thing grown-ups do.” He went on, a ponderous silence hanging on his words, “We want so much in life, and we’ve been through so many things, that someday, it all becomes _too_ much.” He booped Emma on the nose, smiling when she stopped crying to consider what just happened. “I know how you feel, baby. I really do. I wish I could cry and cry and cry too, and just have someone hold me and sing to me until it stops.”

Dean pouted with a smile. “Guess it ain’t proper to do that when you’re grown up.”

“No,” Castiel agreed, looking up at Dean. “But that doesn’t stop us wanting or needing it.”

“Sometimes I just wanna... scream,” Dean admitted.

Castiel gave him an understanding smile, and it felt like a gift, spreading out in Dean’s heart as the wrapping loosened and the ribbon fell apart.

“At times like those,” Castiel went on, looking back into Emma’s eyes, as she sobbed, and sobbed, then stopped crying and suckled on Castiel’s fingertip, “In times when it’s all too overwhelming to deal with, I throw myself into helping other people. Because for years it seemed like that would be the answer. It should be, shouldn’t it? We want love and kindness, so we give love and kindness away, thus attracting more of it.” His eyes rose to Dean’s, and he said, “Thank you for proving me right.”

“Prov— What now?”

“I helped you,” Castiel said, “and now...? Look what you gave me in return. Oh, you are _exquisite_.” He gazed lovingly at Dean’s baby, and Dean’s baby gazed back, reaching to hug Castiel’s finger with her tiny hand, dewy eyes watching Castiel in comfortable fascination. Dean wondered where the hell all that love came from, given they barely knew each other. “There’s nothing but love inside you, baby Emma. Dean’s never taught you anything else, has he?”

Dean wondered if he should feel uncomfortable, seeing a man he’d only just met cradle his child like he had no intention of letting go.

But he didn’t feel uncomfortable. He felt the opposite. He grinned, and let go of a content sigh. He felt himself fall an inch, but it didn’t feel like a cliff.

Castiel glanced at him, curious.

Dean shrugged a shoulder. He sat for a while, watching Castiel enjoy himself, and Emma start to coo, still tugging on his finger.

After a minute, Dean’s eyelids began to droop, and he rolled back to lie down, keeping his gaze on his baby, but feeling safe in that moment, safe enough that he shut his eyes. He kept listening to Emma’s gurgles, and Castiel’s smiling utterances, but let himself drift.

The world became squishy and black around him, just for a while.

He sniffed awake, hearing steps clomp up the stairs. He sat and rolled over, seeing Sam enter through the archway. “Dean!” he called. “I was looking for you! Did you put your phone on silent?”

“Oh, hey, Sam,” Dean uttered, quickly sitting up, looking around himself in embarrassment. His clothes were all on the floor, his fly was wide open, and his baby was being held by a swaying hippie. Dean scrambled to his feet, head down to button his jeans, then glanced over his shoulder as Sam approached.

“Uhhh,” Sam said, smiling as he took in their surroundings. “Not your usual, Dean, but okay. Hi.” He crouched and held out his hand to Castiel, who pressed Emma to his heart and reached with his other hand to shake. “I’m Sam.”

“Castiel,” Castiel smiled. “You must be the brother. I see the resemblance. It’s all in the jaw and eyebrows.”

Dean smiled slightly, pulling on his socks. Sam reached to take Emma, but Castiel’s face fell. He rested his cheek on her head, and begged, “One more minute?”

Sam laughed, eyes darting to Dean to check that way okay.

Dean grinned and shrugged. “What can I say? Cas is a natural. _Emma_ likes him.”

Castiel shut his eyes and swayed, breathing that baby smell deeply, both hands holding her close. He had a faint smile on his lips, the kind of smile that was visibly effortless and unconscious. Dean had never seen anyone hold a baby and look so damn relaxed.

Dean finally got all his clothes back on, and the sling, but handed all the bags to Sam. Sam took them without a word of complaint, eyes still on Castiel. He seemed wary of the guy – he was protective too, it ran in the family – but as Castiel’s final minute neared its end, Sam seemed more at ease, perhaps having worked out Cas wasn’t some random guy Dean had found lurking around in an empty venue, but a yoga teacher. The holey shirt didn’t make it obvious, but Dean’s trust in him did.

Sam soon cleared his throat as a reminder.

Castiel opened his eyes and looked up, quietly bashful that the brothers were watching him, staring down at him, and he’d gotten lost in his own world. He uncrossed his legs and stood in an elegant, easy movement, still cradling Emma against his heart.

“Thank you for this experience, Dean,” Castiel said, holding Dean’s eyes warmly as they transferred the baby to the sling. “For letting me hold her – and before.” He didn’t detail what they’d done before, which Dean appreciated, since Sam didn’t see him as a public self-care kinda guy, and admitting he tried it today would be awkward.

“‘S nothin’,” Dean mumbled, both he and Castiel knowing that wasn’t true. Dean offered a sideways smile, then darted forward and gave Castiel a bump on the arm with a loose fist. “See you ‘round, huh?” He pulled back, smiling.

Castiel soon grinned. “Of course. Oh— Take a flier from the back of the hall, there’s plenty of yoga classes with flexible scheduling that might interest you.”

“Ah, yeah,” Dean sighed, heading slowly towards the exit with Sam beside him, looking back as Castiel followed. “No offence to your planning skills, but I doubt there’s a schedule in existence that could match the schedule of a four-month-old baby.”

“I’m sure you could find a way to fit something in. Even once a week.”

Even Sam scoffed at that.

“No?” Castiel pressed.

Dean shook his head. “Sorry, man. Cool place, though.”

“Oh, yeah,” Sam grinned. “I was going to say. The vibe is incredible.”

“Oh. Thank you.” Castiel only seemed half-pleased. His eyes remained on Dean’s, interested only by how he looked back. “Maybe someday, then? I’d like to see you again.”

Dean kept his eyes on Castiel, but bent his head to kiss Emma’s head. “Maybe someday.”

Sam nudged Dean with his elbow, while folding up one of the fliers for him. “We gotta get back to the car, the sign said five minutes of free parking.”

Dean pressed a smile between his lips. “Right. So. Gotta get goin’.”

“Drive safe,” Castiel said. Unable to resist, he reached out to touch Emma’s back, and in doing so, touched both of Dean’s hands. Dean felt a tingle, wishing he had time to respond to the touch with anything more than a smile.

With regret, he backed away, and broke eye contact as he turned around, following Sam down the unlit stairs, and out into the sunshine.

  


··· ♡❤♡ ···

  


“Did you have sex with him?” Sam asked, while driving.

Dean spluttered. “What?!”

Sam shrugged. “You were just— Undressed. Relaxed—”

“Yoga, Sam, _yoga_.” Dean snorted and looked out of the window at the slow-moving traffic. “And even then, it was barely yoga. I just lay on the floor and Cas talked to me.”

Sam laughed. He was grinning when Dean looked his way.

“Oh, yeah,” Dean snarked, “make fun all you want. Dean did _stretching_.”

“No, it’s not that,” Sam chuckled. “It’s that— ‘Cas’?”

“So what? That’s his name.”

“He told me ‘Castiel’.”

“And?”

Sam was still smiling. “He likes you.”

“Oh, you think?” Dean grumbled. He tried to act like he already knew full-well that Cas was into him – and he did – but it was still exciting to find out Sam saw it too. Dean’s voice softened, and he asked, “Like... was it super obvious, or...?”

“Oh, come on, did you _see_ how he held Emma?”

“He likes babies.”

“He likes _your_ baby,” Sam said. “You should meet up with him again.”

“I can’t do the classes, you know we don’t get time.”

“I can take an extra day off work,” Sam said.

“Are you kidding me?” Dean seethed. “_No_, Sam, you already take three days off. Where’s the money meant to come from, huh? Ugh, get your head on straight. We got a baby to look after. You’re mad if you think gettin’ laid or getting a little ‘me time’ is anywhere near as important as Emma.”

“Which was it?” Sam pried. “Was time with Cas ‘me time’ or was it—”

“What, sexy time?” Dean went quiet. He lowered his eyes to his knees, stroking his jeans. “I dunno. It was lowkey sexy, yeah, but...” He sighed. “Was kinda nice. Just taking a load off. Zoning out for a bit.” Letting go of Emma for a moment was scary, too, but he felt stronger for it.

“At least look it up online,” Sam insisted. “Check the class times. Maybe Cas is more flexible than you think.”

Dean smirked to himself. Oh, he _knew_ Cas was flexible. But Sam didn’t mean his body.

“Fine, I’ll check the schedule,” Dean promised. “Just get us home so we can eat first.”

  


··· ♡❤♡ ···

  


Dean didn’t have time to attend a class. He checked. There was nothing on his official schedule besides doctor’s appointments for Emma, but he knew her unofficial schedule by heart, and there was way too much milk-drinking and pooping and crying to do during the day to allow for anything else. Even fitting Dean’s own bathtime into the week was a ‘maybe’.

Despite this, he submitted his email address on the website, and he signed up for newsletter updates.

He also signed up for Castiel’s free ‘Taking Care of Yourself 101’ online course, which he pulled a face at, since he was probably at least a 104 student in that subject, but yeah, ooookay, he was a bit out of practise.

He then took a shower, because he realised he didn’t remember the last time he took one.

And then, while feeding Emma, he went back to the website on his phone and put his physical address in, opting in for mail-delivered newsletters, because he liked getting mail, and it was way easier to stick a piece of paper on a pinboard, and see it five times a day as a visual reminder, than it was to put a star on an email and keep snoozing the reminders until he gave up and forgot about it forever.

It wasn’t just the yoga classes he was interested in. Well, they were part of it. But he didn’t want to forget about the classes, because he didn’t want to forget about the guy who taught them.

Dean’s hands were literally full, but even so, he had his fingers metaphorically crossed: perhaps, once things were less crazy for Dean, Cas might still be interested.

  


··· ♡❤♡ ···

  


Left hand: shaking warm bottle formula. Right hand: baby.

Left hand: warm bottle in the fridge because his chest hurt too much and there was no _point_ waiting. Right hand: baby.

The doorbell rang.

Left hand: baby. Right hand: same baby.

Left hand: baby. Right hand: front door handle.

Left hand: baby. Right hand: hair, because, oh God, _Cas_ was here?! What the hell? Hair’s a mess. Hair’s a _mess_.

“Oh...” Castiel burst into a smile. “Good, I do have the right apartment.”

“What are you—” Dean huffed, looking around at the empty garden and the street, half-bathed in evening shadow. “What’re you doing here?”

“I thought you might need a pick-me-up,” Castiel said, shrugging his shoulder under the tatty, uneven collar of a white button-down shirt. He lifted one arm, waggling a hemp tote bag. “It’s not a gift basket, but it is a gift bag, I put it together myself.”

Dean hesitated, trying not to smile, but smiling anyway. He chuckled, head down, and cocked his head towards inside. “You wanna come in?”

“Oh, no, no,” Castiel waved a hand. “No, I can’t do that, this was inappropriate enough. I’m sorry, I got your address from the newsletter – oh, here.” He held up a sky-blue envelope with Dean’s name on it, then dropped it back into the tote. “I shouldn’t come in, I don’t want to impose.”

Dean rolled his eyes and stepped back into the apartment, bouncing Emma, as she was starting to cry. “At least put the bag on the table, dude,” Dean called. “And can you pass me that cloth? Ran outta hands. Goddamn it, baby, I’m working on it, I’m working on it.”

Dean sighed in slight relief as Castiel stepped into the apartment, hesitated, then closed the door.

  


··· ♡❤♡ ···

  


Castiel put the bag down on Sam’s desk, then looked around, and saw the cloth Dean meant – a very wet one hanging over the back of Sam’s computer chair.

“Don’t you have a clean one?” Castiel asked.

“Not here, no,” Dean said testily, scowling because Emma’s wails were getting louder. “Come on, girl, I got you. Come on. Let’s sit down.”

He plopped onto the couch, cross-legged, taking a few deep breaths.

“Ah,” Castiel said, rolling up his sleeves. “I see you’ve been taking my online course advice to heart. Deep breathing.”

Dean grunted, looking down and arranging himself comfortably, scrolling up his t-shirt with one hand. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

Castiel wondered how to occupy himself, and decided the dirty cloth was too dirty, so left the main room and went on a quest to find a clean one. He went straight to the bathroom and washed his hands with soap, looking around as he did. His eyes lighted on an empty shelf where he was sure the hand towels were meant to be, but hadn’t been replaced.

So he left the bathroom and went poking around in every cupboard and room, finally finding the laundry. He gave a chirp of “Aha!” when he found drying towels hung on an A-frame rack. He took a damp one, warming it in his hands as he carried it back to Dean in the living room.

“There you are,” Dean uttered, looking up. He looked even more tired than he had last time he and Castiel had met. “Wondered where you got to.”

Castiel sat on a square leather footstool before Dean, holding the cloth for him. He watched, astonished to see Dean breastfeeding Emma.

Castiel asked, “Is there – milk...? Does that really—?”

“Does it really work? Yeah.” Dean smiled, gazing at his daughter. “Took about six weeks of constant suckling and gettin’ nothing, but yeah.” He cupped his breast in his palm and bounced it, grinning. “Almost an A-cup now.”

Castiel laughed unsurely, but then leaned forward, fascinated.

“Use formula most of the time,” Dean went on, his voice quiet and soft. “Dunno how good my milk is. Mostly do this for the bonding, you know?” He stroked a loving finger through Emma’s wispy hair. “Calms us both right down.”

Emma coughed up a puddle of milk, and Castiel quickly offered the cloth. Dean took it, using it to clean up. He chuckled, shaking his head at Castiel. “You didn’t hafta change the cloth, man. If I used a new towel every time there was a new spill I’d spend my life doing laundry.”

“But it was filthy.”

“That’s how life is with a baby,” Dean said. “You get used to it. A lifetime of gross-ophobia goes right out the window. Ain’t got the time or energy for that.”

Castiel hummed, frowning slightly.

Dean let out a slow, content exhale, rocking Emma in his arms.

“Oh,” Castiel breathed, “she’s falling asleep.” He tilted his head to watch her shut her eyes, smiling as she smacked her lips together, then began to snooze.

“A’right,” Dean whispered. He lifted her to his shoulder, patted her until she burped – still asleep, apparently. Then he cradled her again. “I’mma set her down. Then we can talk – or, or, whatever.” He slowly got up, and Castiel gripped his elbow to help him.

He followed Dean to the nursery, which was dim and pink and smelled like talc. There was a tall, white, free-standing closet on the right, and a nursing chair piled up with blankets and a charging laptop on the left. Dean bent over the crib and lay his daughter down with her head to the side, then lifted his chin, looking back at Castiel with a smile. Taking that as an invitation, Castiel padded forward in his socks, standing at Dean’s side to look into the crib.

There were white sheets and a little blue blanket with yellow duckies on it, which Emma cuddled up to. Castiel felt his heart soar.

He prickled with a similar thrill as Dean’s warm hand touched his lower back. Castiel glanced at him, smiling when Dean winked.

“Have you eaten?” Castiel asked.

Dean parted his lips, caught off-guard. “You askin’ out me to dinner? ‘Cause until Sam’s home I can’t leav—”

“No, no, I can make you something here at home. I brought a turkey burger in the gift bag, I thought that might satiate you— Yes?” Castiel grinned widely, seeing Dean’s wide-eyed reaction to being offered a burger.

“Gimmie,” Dean whispered.

Castiel nodded and turned away. “I’ll reheat it and fry up some onions, you take a wash.”

“Wash—”

“You smell like baby puke and sweat,” Castiel informed him, making Dean blush. Castiel chuckled and touched his arm, squeezing once. “There’s fancy soap in the bag too. Thought you might like it.”

As they returned to the living room, Castiel saw how Dean’s eyes gleamed with anticipation.

“Go on.” Castiel fished around, then handed Dean the soap bar, wrapped in brown paper with twine. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

  


··· ♡❤♡ ···

  


Dean’s eyes sparkled. He accepted his dinner with both hands, staring at the plate in awe. There was half a plate of salad, and a steaming burger – the bun re-toasted, the burger re-fried with onions, and extra cheese grated and sprinkled in the middle. Dean sobbed, looking up at Castiel with helpless gratitude. He bowed his head, grabbed the burger with both hands, and began to munch.

Castiel sat at the dining table beside him, their knees touching, Castiel’s elbow pressing against a stuffed lever-arch folder and a pile of unwashed baby bottles. He dug into his own dinner: leftover take-out he’d found in Dean’s fridge (he’d asked if Sam was saving it, at which Dean only laughed), reheated with the remnants of oil left behind after he recooked Dean’s food.

There was a framed photo beside the salt and pepper shakers. Castiel wiped his lips with a napkin, then reached to point to a blonde woman in the photo, who sat on a floral couch, laughing with a baby in her arms. “Is that Emma’s mother?”

“What?” Dean tore his attention away from his food, seeing where Cas was pointing. He coughed, smiling. “Nuh-uh. That little baby? That’s me.”

Castiel eyes widened. “Emma looks exactly like you. Including the freckles.” He looked back to the blonde woman. “So that’s _your_ mother.”

Dean smiled. He went still and quiet for a bit, then returned to his food, muttering, “Sometimes I wonder what she’d think of me if she saw how my life turned out. Used to be this high-powered business guy. Was about to get my next promotion when I got landed with a baby, quit my job...” He licked his lips, then sucked sauce off his thumb. “Relyin’ on my baby brother to keep me going. I mean, I practically raised the kid, so it’s about time he paid me back, but still.” He chuckled, clearly joking.

Castiel tilted his head. “You raised Sam?”

“Since mom died.” Dean frowned, nodding. “I was four years old, he was six months. I learned a lot about taking care of babies, real fast.”

Castiel’s heart clenched. “That must’ve been awful.”

“Awful?” Dean looked at Castiel. “Ah, I dunno about that. Maybe I remember it different. Losin’ Mom was the worst, but, uh. Taking care of Sam? Hard, but not hell. I love the kid to bits. All kids, really.”

“Is it easier? Doing the same now you’re grown up?”

Dean snorted. “Ain’t got the little old ladies helping me out any more. I say I raised him, but Sammy, he was raised by everyone we ever met. Takes a village, right? Try the whole of the United States. Dad moved us around all the time, so—”

“Wait, your father was there? Didn’t he look after you?”

“Please.” Dean pursed his lips. “His idea of parenting was a twenty-dollar note and a pair of shoes, and a motel paid out for a couple weeks. Call it DIY parenting. As in, he leaves, and we do it ourselves.”

At this point Castiel had gone off his food.

“Anyway,” Dean sighed, dragging the edge of his lettuce through ketchup, then tossing it into his mouth, “I only had to make it through a year or so before Bobby and Ellen took us in. Maybe it was too far in the past for me to remember the bad bits? But I think it _is_ harder now. Maybe I’m... y’know. Being too hard on myself. Trying to do better this time ‘round. I never took Sam to the doctor unless he was dying. This time I’m outta the house the first sign of a rash.” He smiled to himself, adding, two fingers raised, “True story.”

Castiel smiled back, finally laying down his fork.

“What about you?” Dean asked, meeting Castiel’s eyes. “What’s your damage?”

Castiel managed to grin, but soon cleared his throat, smiling fading.

“Sorry,” Dean uttered. “Bad phrasing.”

“Um.” Castiel swallowed. “It, actually, uh...”

“You don’t have to do,” Dean said. “Seriously, I didn’t—”

“There’s still a lot I haven’t dealt with,” Castiel said, eyes lowered, as his stomach fluttered uncomfortably. “I’m working on it.”

“Okay. Cool. Hey, you want dessert—?”

“I help people,” Castiel said, “partially because I like to help people. But partially because I— I once became convinced I can’t help myself.”

Dean went quiet, serene beside Castiel, listening.

“I feel like I’m forever waiting for someone to come save me,” Castiel sighed, rubbing his forehead. “But I don’t even know what from. My life is fine now. I just want things to be different. I want to be different. I want to have only _love_ inside me and none of this – longing, this fear?” He met Dean’s thoughtful eyes, sullen. “I’m always working on grounding myself, feeling loved and connected to the things and people around me – and I use the words I use, and do the things I do, because those are the words and actions I want for myself. I want to be released from my burdens the way I release others from theirs. But I can’t do it for myself.”

Dean’s lips rounded. “I think you can.”

“I’ve tried, Dean, and I want to believe it’ll happen with enough work – but I’ve done everything I can for myself. I know what the problem is now. I _want_ help to come from outside. No, it _has_ to come from outside, because by nature, what I want is not something that’s possible for me to fulfil myself. I don’t want—”

Castiel looked away, afraid to share any more. It was too soon to dump all of this on Dean.

“What,” Dean urged, hand reaching to touch Castiel’s.

Castiel’s breath shivered. “I don’t want to be alone.”

Dean waited, holding his hand from above.

Eventually Castiel met his eyes. “I want... someone. A mentor, a friend, a pet, a child, a boyfriend, I don’t know. I’m just so... So...”

“Lonely?”

Castiel couldn’t meet his eyes. He hated how accurate the word was, because it was such a sad word.

“Is that all?” Dean smiled.

Castiel averted his eyes completely. Dean didn’t understand how much it hurt.

“Hey.” Dean patted his hand. “Makes sense, you know. No amount of tree-planting and community-leading is ever gonna replace a hug, if all you really want is a hug, right?”

Castiel flushed cold. Maybe Dean did understand.

“C’mon.” Dean stood up, snatching up the last bite of his burger, then collecting his plate. “Finish eating, then we’re gonna hang out.”

“Hang... out?”

“Yeah. You know. Sit, talk, man-to-man, share our reading lists, give foot massages? Hang out.”

Castiel looked down at his food, then picked up his fork and began to gobble.

  


··· ♡❤♡ ···

  


He’d only stopped by to deliver the gift bag. That was at six o’clock.

Now it was nine o’clock., and he was starting to realise why Dean always looked tired. ‘Hanging out’ turned out to involve less foot massages and sitting and more laundry-folding and kitchen-cleaning and stair-climbing, but there was indeed talking, and laughter, and a few friendly shoves here and there.

Then they went back downstairs and Castiel started the dishwasher, leaving Dean with Emma, because she was crying again. Castiel stayed through the hour it took to get her back to sleep, he and Dean taking it in turns to cuddle and sing to her.

Dean took a nap on the couch sometime around eleven-thirty, and Castiel considered leaving, but then Emma woke up, and Castiel shoved Dean back to the couch and went to tend to her himself. He pulled faces at her and changed her diaper – “Twice— Don’t ask,” then finally sat, and Dean lay his feet on Castiel’s lap so Castiel didn’t sit on them.

Castiel started massaging through Dean’s socks without even noticing. Dean sank back into the couch cushions, groaning in bliss, eyes rolling back in his head. Castiel grinned, and wiggled his big toe. “This little piggy went to market—”

Dean guffawed, kicking Castiel gently. “Shuddup.”

Castiel grinned back, pummelling Dean’s heels with fast-working thumbs. “What time do you get to bed?”

“Bed?” Dean seemed confused.

Castiel opened his mouth slowly.

“Oh,” Dean rolled his eyes. “That thing people do at the end of the day. Sleep. Right. Pff. Nah, I already had four hours yesterday. I’m good ‘til tomorrow.”

The nausea of empathy churned in Castiel’s insides. “I’m not going anywhere until you go to bed.”

Dean quirked up an eyebrow. “Ooh.”

“That’s not a flirtation, that’s a genuine concern of mine. You need sleep, Dean. You need to look after yourself, or who’s taking care of Emma but an over-tired, under-fed zombie? I’m concerned at how much brighter your skin started looking after dinner. I didn’t realise you were grey before, but you were.”

“That shit’s a luxury, Cas,” Dean grumbled, switching his feet so Castiel massaged the other one. “Fancy soap’s nice as a gift, and all, but I’m never buying repeats. I do what I gotta do for Emma, nothing more.”

Castiel shook his head. “I refuse to accept that. The parent is just as important as the child. You need to be pampered and loved as much as she does. Even if that love comes from yourself, not somebody else.”

Dean rolled his eyes.

Castiel was irked by that dismissal. “Starting now! Come on. Up.”

“What?”

“Get up. We’re doing yoga.”

“What, _now_?”

“Yes, now, here. This rug will do. Take your flannel off, go find different pants – underwear, leggings, anything.”

Dean looked down at himself. “Can I just take my pants _off_?”

Castiel smiled. “Yes.” He started undoing his own belt, and Dean watched, lips parting, then he licked them and started unbuckling his own belt. They undressed together, tossing their clothes on the couch.

“Heh,” Dean said, tugging down the legs on his boxer-briefs so his bulge wasn’t so obvious. “You, uh, gonna keep the button-down on?”

Castiel pondered, then decided the sleeves weren’t flexible enough, and began to unbutton. He was aware of how Dean watched him reveal his chest, absentmindedly nibbling his lower lip.

“Hmmm,” Dean purred, eyes lifting to meet Castiel’s. “Nice thighs.”

Castiel looked down, lifting a foot to look at one hairy thigh. “Oh. Thank you. They’re thrifted.”

Dean’s face went blank for a moment, then he burst out laughing, head back, hands on his stomach. “You,” he laughed, settling down. “You’re so weird.”

“Glad to hear it,” Castiel said, stretching his arms out in front of him, fingers interlocked. “Are you ready?”

Dean wafted his t-shirt. “Do I gotta take this off?”

“Only if you want to.”

“Oh. Okay.” Dean hesitated. “Like, I want to, but also—”

“Don’t, then.”

Dean hesitated again, but then nodded, and stood beside Castiel, facing the rug the same way. “How do we start?”

“Tree pose.”

“Standing still and not doing anything, right?”

He shut his eyes, wriggled his shoulders, then stood straight – as straight as he could with bowed legs.

Castiel paced in front of him, checking his posture. He reached and touched Dean’s shoulders, easing them down. Dean’s eyes flashed open, meeting Castiel’s gaze; they both smiled carelessly, then Dean shut his eyes again. Castiel touched his hips, then went around to his back and pressed between his shoulder blades, his other hand on Dean’s navel to bring his lower spine back and his upper spine forward. “Relax.” Dean relaxed, and Castiel’s continued pressure helped him realise where to straighten. “Better.”

Castiel stood in front of Dean, taking a few seconds to admire his face, freckles and long lashes and plump, red lips. His arms hung by his sides, but Castiel saw how his hands were curled into loose fists.

“Imagine a beam of light descending upon your head,” Castiel said. “It’s pulling you up. Cleansing you.”

“Aliens?”

“Cosmic light.”

“Aliens,” Dean said firmly.

Castiel chuckled. “Alright. They’re nice aliens.”

Dean smirked, having won. Castiel saw his hands relax.

“Now, I want you to bend forward.”

“I _knew_ it,” Dean said.

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Again, not a flirtation.”

“Kinda was, though, wasn’t it?”

Castiel paced softly beside him, prepared to argue, but he couldn’t help smiling. “Do you want it to be?”

Dean tipped his head, lips pursed, a shrug. “Wouldn’t complain if you wanted to pat my ass like you patted everything else.”

Castiel chuckled, glad Dean couldn’t see him blush. “Just do what I tell you, Dean.”

Dean cooed. “Ain’t complaining there, either.” He bent forward, arms dangling. “Look, I can touch my toes,” he said, fingers half a foot away from his toes. He wriggled. “Wait for it. Wait for it.”

He wriggled his hips enough, and finally, his fingers swept his toes. “Told ya.”

“You’ve been practising,” Castiel supposed.

“Eh, a little,” Dean said, as Castiel bit his lip and tentatively placed his hand on the warm, dipped crease of Dean’s ass, then quickly fled, both of them grinning.

“You don’t need to keep your legs straight,” Castiel said. “To stretch your spine you’re better off keeping your knees bent, resting the weight of your torso on your thighs. Relax your neck, let your head and arms act as a natural downward pull.”

He watched as Dean’s position softened a bit, and his spine immediately popped, and Dean sighed in relief.

“Good.”

“Am I supposed to fart again?” Dean asked, his voice muffled by being upside-down.

“Don’t hold it in if you need to let go,” Castiel said.

Dean farted.

Castiel laughed, wandering away in case there was a smell. “Okay. Now straighten. Arms up!” He mirrored Dean on the other side of the rug, and Dean opened his eyes to copy. Palms together, body long.

They then craned down, down, down, slowly, and placed their palms on the rug, walking them forward. Dean grunted, and Castiel saw him start to struggle as they held that pose, a push-up frozen at its highest peak. His arms shook – he still had good arm muscles, but Castiel supposed he hadn’t gone to the gym in – at a guess – four months.

They rolled onto their backs, Castiel rotating to lie shoulder-to-shoulder beside Dean.

They repeated the first stretches they’d done together in the church hall: lying still, pulling their legs up, rainbow feet, arms up, then knees across to stretch their hips. There wasn’t a lot of room on the rug, so as Castiel rolled his knee over his front, it rested on Dean’s protruding hip, and Dean laughed, taking hold of it, rubbing it with a thumb as they stretched.

They they rolled to the other side, and Dean slid his leg down Castiel’s thigh, purring.

“This was not part of the exercise,” Castiel said, head turned part-way back, eyes on Dean’s chest. His shirt was riding up, showing his soft belly. They rolled back onto their backs, and rested there, smiling at each other, admiring each other’s faces, sharing heat at their shoulders.

Then Dean surged closer, head over Castiel, and kissed him.

Castiel felt his lips stick, then release, dark eyes peering down. Castiel looked back, dazed. “Oh.”

Dean rolled back to lie down, still gazing at Castiel with interest and a flirtatious sparkle.

“Now what?” Dean asked.

Castiel glanced at his lips, then back to his eyes. “Um.”

Dean yawned.

Castiel chuckled, reaching to stroke Dean’s hair back. “Yoga _is_ good for relaxation. Go on, I think it’s time you got to bed.”

Dean yawned again, as if in agreement. He sat up, bleary-eyed. “Hmm.”

“Up.” Castiel held out his hands. “Bedtime.”

“Hmm, carry me,” Dean murmured, letting himself be pulled up.

“I could,” Castiel said. “But I think you could walk, don’t you?”

Dean huffed. “Spoilsport.” He picked up all his clothes, but carried them rather than wearing them. He went to the kitchen and picked up Emma’s baby monitor, then began trudging towards the stairs, and Castiel decided to follow.

Castiel stood watch as Dean brushed his teeth, but waited outside, looking at the posters hung in the hallway as Dean went to the toilet. Castiel filled Dean a glass of water, and then went with him to check on Emma one last time.

They stood together in the nursery doorway, looking back at her. Then Dean cocked his head, inviting Castiel out of the room. Castiel handed over the water glass and went to find his shoes, supposing it was time he went home. According to the microwave clock, he’d been here six hours.

He’d barely taken his shoes in hand when Dean called from halfway up the stairs, hidden behind a wall, “Cas, are you coming, or what?”

Castiel stared at the wall. Then he stared at his shoes. Then he put down his shoes and followed Dean.

Dean grunted as they reached his bedroom, lit only by indirect moonlight. He turned on a lamp on the nightstand, beaming out a tender gold. “Shut the door,” he told Castiel. “There’s a draft.” Dean put the baby monitor on its charger, then crossed his arms over his chest and pulled off his t-shirt. Castiel inhaled sharply and averted his eyes, unsure if he was meant to look. Dean was wearing a tight lace bra stuffed with tissues.

“What? Oh, this thing?” Dean grinned, unclipping it from the back, letting tissues tumble out. “It’s just to stop me leaking. I end up with drips down my shirt.”

Castiel parted his lips. He let himself stare. Dean was still flat-chested, but there was definitely an uncommon swell there. “I’ve never,” Castiel started, “I’ve never seen—”

“Honestly, I don’t get why not,” Dean muttered, almost to himself. “If guys are capable of feeding babies the same way moms do, seems a waste not to.”

Castiel smiled sadly. “You know... if she did what I think she did, leaving you with the baby and vanishing... I think Emma’s mother passed up her chance to be with the world’s best father.”

Dean chuckled, climbing into bed and turning out the light. “What mother?” he uttered. He lay down, watching Castiel undo his shirt buttons again. “I _am_ Emma’s mother.”

Dean shut his eyes, snuggling closer the moment Castiel got into bed with him. He kissed Castiel’s cheek, hand stroking his bare chest. “You’re okay with this, right?”

“You mean sleeping here? With you? In an apartment where the walls radiate love and there’s a baby who stops crying the moment I pick her up?”

Dean peered at him in the blue darkness. “The apartment’s nice, sure. Baby, obviously. But me? What’s so great about me, Cas? Why are you still here?”

“You invited me. I tried to leave the minute I got here, remember?”

“You could’ve said no. Either you like me, or you’re a creepy stalker. Which is it?”

Castiel chortled. “You wouldn’t have invited me here unless you knew I liked you.”

“Hey, I know you _like_ me, I just don’t get why. Alright, yeah, I’m totally adorable. But...?”

Castiel rolled closer, shutting his eyes to give Dean a kiss. “I don’t know yet.”

“Hm?”

Castiel rolled a shoulder. “I don’t know why I’m here yet. I barely know you. I just know that I like you a lot, and you clearly like me back. We can find out why later.”

Dean scoffed. “That’s stupid.”

“Says the man who just invited a stranger into his apartment and then his bed, and not even for sex.”

“Hey, never said it _wasn’t_ for sex.”

Castiel raised his eyebrows.

Dean grinned, shoving his chest. “Fine, it wasn’t for sex.” He wiggled in the bed, wrapping his arms around Castiel, legs sneaking between each other. “Was for cuddles.”

Castiel cuddled him back. He hummed happily.

He and Dean relaxed together, slowly dipping into sleep.

  


··· ♡❤♡ ···

  


A rustle came through the baby monitor. Dean sat bolt-upright in the dark, listening.

Once Castiel blinked, and remembered where he was, and why, he sat up too. He heard the faint upset murmur of Emma deciding whether to cry or not.

Dean hung his head, sighing. Emma had started to whimper.

“Don’t,” Castiel said, hand on Dean’s breast, then snatching it away, surprised by Dean’s softness. “I’ll get her.”

“You sure?” Dean said, voice sleep-thick.

Castiel leaned to kiss his shoulder. “It’s why I’m here. Get some rest.”

He left Dean and went down in just his underwear, heading to the nursery. He opened the door and leaned into the crib, cooing, calling, soothing. “Ohhh, it’s okay. It’s okay, little one, everything’s okay. What’s wrong, hm?”

He heard a car door slam outside, and asked, “Was that what you heard? It’s just a car, baby. Oohhh, it’s okay. Shhhhhhhh. Shhhhhhh.” He swayed, left to right, placing a kiss on Emma’s forehead. “Mwah.”

He heard the front door open, and he froze, listening, alert.

Emma kept crying, her tiny mouth open in a grimace.

“Hush,” Castiel urged. “Let me listen...?” He gave her a fingertip to suckle.

Emma whimpered into silence, sucking.

Castiel wondered if there was an intruder. He heard their heavy footfalls; a dropped bag, a sigh. Whoever they were, they were trying to be quiet, but were careless. Castiel’s skin chilled when he realised they were heading this way.

Panicked, he looked around for a weapon, before realised _he_ was the weapon; then realising he couldn’t attack with a baby in his arms. But he couldn’t put her down, he needed to protect her. So what could he do? Hide? There was a narrow wardrobe right there, he had time—

He rushed inside and pulled the door almost closed, an eighth of an inch of moonlight showing movement as the intruder entered.

He was tall. Very tall.

He went to the crib, then stood straight and looked around in alarm. He was about to hasten from the room, when he paused. He’d heard Emma suckling in the closet.

Castiel couldn’t see his face, but he heard him closing in on the hideaway. Castiel’s heart was pounding. He readied himself to attack. Fast two-fingered shot to the eyes, side of his hand to the throat, kick to the groin. Run.

The door opened—

“Whoa!” Sam ducked as fast as Castiel attacked. “Easy! Cas?! Castiel. Jeez. Jeez! Calm down, what the hell— What the _hell_?! Stop! It’s me! It’s Sam!”

Castiel was shaking, one bare foot in the closet, both arms around the baby. He breathed too fast, too hard. Emma held his t-shirt fabric with her tiny hand, squeezing.

“What are you doing here?” Sam asked, wide-eyed with confusion and shock. “What are you doing in Emma’s closet – and in your underwear?” Now Sam looked perplexed – and a bit disgusted.

“Dean,” Castiel said.

Suddenly Sam rolled his eyes, starting to smile. “Oh.”

Castiel hadn’t even said a full sentence and somehow everything was explained?

“You’re really jumpy, you know that?” Sam shook his head, reaching to take Emma from Castiel. “Okay. Okay, Emma. Hi. Oh, you’re hungry. Are you hungry? Okay, we’ll do a bottle. Let’s go get a bottle.”

Castiel stood outside the closet, stunned. He let out a breath to calm himself, then followed Sam to the kitchen. “I... suppose you just got home from work...?”

“Ch’yeah,” Sam laughed. “Lawyer. Don’t get sensible hours. Gotta make up for days I take off.”

Castiel stood by the kitchen island, hugging his bare middle, stroking his other arm with a hand. “Um. I’m sorry... for... back there...”

“Pff, don’t worry about it,” Sam said. “Understandable.”

Castiel squinted. “It is?”

Sam looked up from pouring milk between bottles. “Oh. Uh. Yeah. I mean—”

“Do Dean’s lovers— Partn— Friends— Do people Dean knows – um – usually defend Emma with – physical violence?”

Sam laughed breathily, head down. “No. Look, I gotta be honest, he doesn’t keep that many close friends. And none like you. But you know what, it’s good. You’re good for each other.”

“How can you say that, Sam? I just attacked you.”

Sam wet his lips, bouncing Emma on his chest as he placed the bottle into the microwave and started it up. “Full disclosure, Cas, I ran a little background check after last time we met. Dean doesn’t usually take to people so quickly.”

Castiel bristled. “So you Googled me? To check if I’d seduced him like some kind of predator?”

Sam caught his eye. “Something like that.” He transferred Emma to his other shoulder, still bouncing. “I know about the orphanage.”

Castiel lowered his eyes, skin crawling.

“It had to be terrifying,” Sam said. “Only one left behind when they moved?”

Castiel looked away. Tears flooded his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” Sam spoke gently. “But that’s— You and Dean. That’s what you both went through. Left behind, abandoned. When I first read that, I thought I should be worried for Dean, for Emma – trauma pops up in some dangerous ways, you know? But. Yoga teacher. Nature activist. You go around cleaning up beaches and donating to homeless people and giving talks about recycling in schools. You talk to the press and you’re open about doing therapy.” The microwave beeped, and Sam pulled out the bottle, testing the temperature on the back of his hand. “And then there’s Dean. High-ranking business official for Save the Children.”

Castiel’s eyebrows rose in surprise. Dean had said he was a businessman but never said for which company. Castiel had assumed something more corporate than a nonprofit charity for endangered children worldwide.

Sam smiled, cradling Emma and angling the bottle teat downwards for her to suck on. He watched her, and said to Castiel, “Sometimes the worst things happen to kids, and it screws them up. But... sometimes the time it takes to recover, and the self-care tools they learn in those months or years after, it gives them what they need to become someone better, stronger than they ever thought possible. And not just kids, either. I’m a domestic abuse lawyer. And I couldn’t _tell_ you the amount of people I’ve seen turn their lives around, start something not just for themselves, but for other people. They go as big as a company, or as small as, as – huh, supporting a litter of abandoned kittens.” Sam’s smile shook, getting emotional. “It really is incredible, Cas. Every single one of those people is a hero to somebody. Especially themselves.” He looked up at Castiel. “I don’t know if you know it, but you are too.”

Castiel shook his head. A hero’s heart wouldn’t still be so heavy after years of therapy.

“You’ll realise it one day,” Sam said kindly. “Both of you.” His eyes moved to something behind Castiel.

Castiel turned to look, and brightened with a smile when he saw Dean there, in his t-shirt and boxers, smiling back at him, shiny-eyed. Castiel’s smile fell when he realised Dean might’ve heard everything. His heart clenched when he realised, logically, Sam and Dean already discussed this ‘background check’ back when they met Castiel. No wonder Dean panicked earlier when he asked about Castiel’s ‘damage’. He thought he’d triggered something.

Dean stepped forward, placing his hand on Castiel’s back. “What started this conversation?” he asked.

Castiel took a breath, but Sam laughed first, head down. “Cas leapt out of the closet and tried to chop my head off with his bare hands.”

Castiel hugged himself, shrugging bashfully.

Dean patted his shoulder. “Aw, come on, Cas. You missed?”

Castiel chuckled, while Sam laughed. “Judo beats yoga for speed,” Sam said.

Castiel tutted. Judo! No wonder.

Dean flicked his eyes to the ceiling, then went to take Emma from Sam, shooing him to go wash up and get out of his work suit. “Cas... Look, I gotta burp her. But then, you wanna help me put her back to bed?”

Castiel’s eyes followed Sam, then turned back to Dean. “Of course,” he said, taking Dean’s elbow and walking at his side. “Wouldn’t miss seeing her cuddle that duck blanket for the world.”

  


··· ♡❤♡ ···

  


Dean sniffed awake, eyelids fluttering. He felt a patch of sunshine on his face, swimming left to right, blotted by the leaves of the apple tree outside.

He groaned deep in his chest and rolled into the middle of the bed, body open to the room, head turning... He opened his eyes, expecting to see Castiel.

“Cas?”

Dean sat up. “Cas?”

He only heard the radio chattering away downstairs, then the blender going. Sam was up, making green smoothies for breakfast.

Finding himself noticeably less achey than usual, Dean dragged himself to the edge of the bed and stepped down, pacing in bare feet towards the bathroom.

He made it downstairs within ten minutes, hair gelled up, skin exfoliated and moisturised, shoulders relaxed after a stretch. He grinned at Sam, who’d immediately noticed how perky Dean looked.

“Guess you had a good time last night?” Sam asked.

Dean rolled a shoulder. “What can I say? Cas is great at spooning. Ew, no, don’t give me that.” He rejected the smoothie Sam offered him.

“You need the nutrients,” Sam insisted, and Dean gave in, since it was for _Emma_, after all.

“Where is Cas, by the way?” Dean asked, dipping a metal straw into the drink. “Didn’t see him on the way down.” He looked to the nursery door, craning back, wondering if Cas was with Emma.

“He had to take off,” Sam said, topping off his own smoothie with a gloopy swirl. “Class to teach.”

“Aw.” Dean pouted, frowning as he bent to sniff his smoothie. It smelled okay – Sam was getting better at covering the taste of vegetables with fruit. By the time Emma was weaned off milk, Sam would be an expert, and she’d be getting her five-a-day, easy.

“He told me to tell you his last class ends at seven tonight,” Sam said, splunking a straw in his own drink. “In case you were interested.”

Dean sipped his smoothie, shaking his head as he swallowed. “Emma’s got her checkup at four.”

“So?” Sam shrugged. “I’ll drop you off on the way. I have the day off, it’s fine. I can take her.”

“But you have to catch up on work, you don’t have time— _I_ don’t have time— I should be at the appointment—”

“So give me notes and I’ll take them with me. Why are you so averse to taking time for yourself?” Sam complained. “Seriously, Dean, we’re just trying to help you. See a friend, do something nice, relax. The world’s not going to fall apart if you’re otherwise occupied for an hour or two.”

“You’d be surprised,” Dean grumbled at his smoothie, swirling the bottom half so it sank down the insides of the glass.

“I can hold down the fort just fine,” Sam scoffed. “I’m just as good at looking after Emma as you.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean sneered. “Did you know her favourite song is _Wonderwall_? Did you notice she’s pooping one less time per day than last week? Is your chest in near-_constant_ searing pain because you’re full of milk? Please.”

“So feed her before you leave,” Sam huffed, stalking out of the kitchen. “I know your boyfriend left early and you’re in pain and hungry, but still. You could’ve just _told_ me those facts, you don’t need to use them as ammunition.”

“Psh!” Dean slumped against the kitchen island, glaring after his brother as he left the room. Dean sulked and drank his smoothie.

Once the fruit sugar kicked in, colours brightened, and he started to feel bad for snapping. He never used to snap like that. Maybe it was the hormones.

Or maybe it was an actual symptom of a real need to chill out.

He’d gotten whatever time-outs he could, handfuls of seconds every other day, but a few hours of dead sleep did nothing to soothe him, only kept him alive. Maybe he really did need a more regular escape. And not just Netflix or a dirty movie, either.

Looking determinedly into the green puddle at the bottom of his glass, Dean sighed, and decided he’d take Sam’s recommendation, and head out later that day.

He did trust Sam to look after Emma. Obviously he did. It was more that Dean didn’t trust himself to be away from her and not feel guilty, or panic.

Cas had tried to help with that, too.

Dean had let go of her once.

Perhaps he could do it again.

  


··· ♡❤♡ ···

  


“_Aaaaand, up! We’re a forest of green summer trees... arms long, fingers embracing the sky. Feel yourself growing, feel the sun on your face... Toes sinking into the Earth, grounding you. Feel the vibrant energy of the other trees around you, let yourself breathe... In through your nose... and... out through your mouth..._”

Dean emerged through the arch, heart pumping a little harder than it should after climbing sixteen stairs. He stood at the back of the sunset-blazed yoga hall, smiling when he saw Castiel on the platform at the front, standing tall, arms out in a Y-shape.

Twenty children and teenagers stood before him, wearing yoga pants, shorts, t-shirts, and tank tops, turning themselves into trees.

Dean had brought a bottle of water and nothing else, besides his phone. He’d borrowed some of Sam’s old jogging jodhpurs, knee-length, tight black cotton with a decent stretch, and a neon pink rhombus shape leaning in on his mid-thighs. He also wore a black open-sided tank top that left his shoulders bare and showed the sides of his bra, which he thought was kinda sexy. Now he was wondering if sexy was even appropriate, when there were kids around.

He didn’t have a yoga mat, but there was one empty in the back corner of the room, so he went to stand there. He put down his water and phone, shook himself loose, then shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and became a tree.

He didn’t get more than ten seconds as a tree before Castiel told them they were becoming snails.

So Dean became a snail, curled up in a ball with his arms stretched long in front of him.

They spent half an hour as mountains, rivers, hedgehogs, the hinges on a gate (Dean wasn’t the only one who laughed, thank God), motorcycle ramps, skyward-facing bridges (Dean was half a bridge, he didn’t have that muscle control yet), and a lot of other animals and random objects, half of which Dean was pretty sure Cas just made up on the spot.

Castiel wound down the class with five minutes of deep breathing, cross-legged, a smile in his voice as he guided everyone to think about the people that they loved and cared about, thinking good thoughts for them, and releasing that loving energy into the world like a collection of glowing butterflies, opening their eyes to watch them flutter out of the circular window and towards whoever they were meant for.

Dean wasn’t a huge fan of butterflies, so he imagined cartoon ones, which was easier. One went to Sam, one to Emma, one to Charlie, then a bunch for Bobby and Ellen and so many people he’d met in the past and was grateful to that he literally ran out of time and mental butterflies when Castiel called a cheerful end to the class, and was swarmed by children and a few parents who’d arrived to collect their offspring.

Dean watched Castiel smile and laugh and crouch to interact with his students, taking their hands, no doubt giving them kind advice. As he spoke he looked them in their eyes with his steadfast gaze, an upward turn in his lips that illustrated his eternal positivity. Someone said something in a mutter, and he threw his head back to laugh, guffawing deeply as the others tittered.

He shooed the young crowd away at last, and they went stumbling and dashing to the exit, collecting their mats and hoodies and juiceboxes on the way.

There were still a few people left over, lingering, waiting to be collected, or just hanging out with friends. Dean was pretty sure he saw a couple teen girls bump two Tamagotchis together, and he wondered if that did something.

Castiel looked around, and decided he was free, so strode cat-like over to Dean, as bare-footed and holey-shirted as he had been the day they met, crossing more sunbeams than ever before, as the whole hall was gilded with sunset gold, pouring through the windows on the left. He wore proper leggings this time; mid-length, plain navy blue.

“Hello, Dean,” he said as he came close.

“Hey,” Dean said, grinning. “I’m, uh, still working on the butterflies.”

Castiel cocked his head in a playful way, kneeling before Dean, his knees an inch from Dean’s. “I’m still working on mine, too.” He patted his stomach. “Every time I see you.”

Dean’s grin rose lopsided. “Hee.”

Castiel chuckled, bowing his head. “I’m glad you came. I wasn’t sure if you would. You didn’t bring Emma.”

“Yeah, well. Figured I needed a little getaway. Was driving Sammy nuts.” Dean lowered his eyes, fingers plucking at a dent on the yoga mat. “It’s actually, uh. First time. First time I’ve been away from her.”

“Ever?”

“Since Lydia handed her over? Yeah, pretty much. I’m kind of,” Dean wriggled his fingers over his chest, “anxious? Freaking out, lowkey. Heh.” He looked away. “Trying not to be. I know she’s safe.” He touched his phone. “Sam’s sending me updates every fifteen minutes, I got him to set up an alarm.”

“That’s good.”

“It’s not really.” Dean wet his lips. “I shouldn’t be this _clingy_. What’s it gonna be like when she starts kindergarten, huh? Am I gonna be one of those parents who volunteers on every school trip and never leaves their kid alone? That’s the exact opposite thing my dad did, but even saying it, it doesn’t sound like awesome parenting either, does it? My dad taught me nothin’ besides needs-only independence, and now I can’t let my hair down or have anyone else help me. What am I gonna teach Emma if I go the other way? She’s not gonna be able to do anything alone.”

“You have a few years,” Castiel assured him, holding Dean’s gaze firmly. “You have time to work on it. This _was_ huge for you, Dean. Relying on someone else to help. Delegating an important task. Being apart from her, even with continuous contact, it’s a big step. Are you proud of yourself?”

Dean rolled a shoulder, head down.

“It’s understandable if you feel mixed emotions about it,” Castiel said. “Feeling silly for struggling, feeling proud for actually doing it anyway. Is that how you feel?”

Dean shrugged again, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I mean, I guess.”

Castiel hummed a soft note. “I like this,” he said, reaching to touch Dean’s shoulder, brushing the strap of his bra with his thumb. “I think you’ve gained some confidence.”

Dean grinned, running his hand up through his hair, crackling it. “Maybe, yeah. Did my hair up how it’s meant to be, too.”

“Yes, I noticed. Now you’re definitely taller than me.”

“Thank God for the bowlegs and bare feet, right? Or you’d be standin’ on an apple crate to kiss me.”

Castiel’s eyes sparkled. “Thank goodness indeed. Luckily all I have to do is this.” He leaned close and shut his eyes, and let his lips press warm to Dean’s. Dean sighed, relaxing, floating up in a happy bubble. He opened his eyes as Castiel pulled back, and they both grinned.

Castiel’s attention darted around the sun-bronzed hall, turning at the waist to double-check behind him. “Hm,” he said, pleased. “All alone now.” He turned back to Dean, pressed both hands to his shoulders, and shoved him down to the mat.

“A-oh!?” Dean yelped softly, smiling, lying back at Castiel’s command. “Hello.”

Castiel bit his lip, eyes ablaze. “I think it’s time for a little one-on-one, don’t you?”

“Like couples yoga?”

Castiel grinned, half-winking with one eye. “Sure.”

Dean’s heart leapt.

Castiel turned and lay down beside Dean, bumping himself closer, looking at him warmly.

Dean stared back, temple pressed to the mat foam. “So, you, uh,” he let his eyes lower to Castiel’s lips, then met his gaze again, seductive. “You want my clothes off?”

A flicker crossed Castiel’s face. “You’re already wearing yoga gear.”

Dean wet his lips. “Nnn... yeah, but...” His eyes dipped to Castiel’s lips again. “For the... one-on-one?” He let a hand wander to Castiel’s stomach, stroking it... then heading lower.

He got as far as the hem of Castiel’s t-shirt before Castiel laughed, shaking his body; his own hand caught Dean’s, fingers locked between, holding him. “Dean,” he said, eyes sparkling with laughter. “I’m not having sex with you here.”

Dean blushed, immediately acting baffled. “What. Why. Why would I think that. I don’t think that. I didn’t. I mean. That’s crazy.” He gulped. “Heh.”

Castiel just kept holding his hand, stroking a thumb over it, smiling. “Dean...” He let out a slow breath, eyes lowering and unfocusing, smile relaxing away, “I think we need to talk.”

“Shit,” Dean breathed, trying to pull back his hand. “Jeez, dude, didn’t mean to – y’know, harass you at work or somethin’— Aw, man.”

“Dean— Dean, no, it’s okay,” Castiel chuckled, reaching for Dean’s retreating hand and laying down with him again. “Relax.” He looked at Dean so carefully, holding his hand with such unshakable confidence that Dean surrendered to his embarrassment, but then found that discomfort couldn’t withstand the tenderness in Castiel’s gaze, and evaporated in a moment. He relaxed.

“What do we need to talk about, exactly?” Dean asked, feeling the heat of the sun on the back of his neck. He stretched into it, and Castiel responded by curling closer, lying on his side to face Dean, head tipped down so his hair smushed on the yoga mat.

A warm hand caressed Dean’s jaw, and Castiel asked, “Are we in a relationship?”

Dean’s lips parted. “Uh. D— Do you want to be?”

Castiel nodded.

Dean grinned, heart bright as the sun. “Awesome.” He pursed his lips into a kiss, but didn’t shift forward to apply it where it belonged. “That all, or...?”

“Just a few other questions.”

“Like what?

“Like... What do you want from me?” Castiel asked. “I understand how your life exists in a delicate balance, a see-saw, with Emma at one end, and everyone and everything else at the other... and I need to know, Dean, I need to know how you want me to fit into that, moving forward.”

Dean realised from that question alone that Castiel had plans for making this a serious commitment, not just a short-term fling. And that knowledge set forth a torrent of relief inside Dean, breaking a dam of insecurity he hadn’t realised was there, blocked up, consistently forced out of his mind so he didn’t have to think about it when he had a million other things to think about.

Apparently a huff of emotion had escaped him, because Castiel smiled, cradling Dean’s whole cheek now, looking at him with soft eyes, round and dark and full of assurance.

“I want,” Dean started, wetting his lips. “I— I don’t know,” he confessed. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it. Not properly.”

“Alright. Let’s see.” Castiel glanced up. “Do you want me... to come to your apartment?”

Dean nodded.

“How often?”

Dean shook his head. “How the hell should I know? What fits your schedule? What d’you want me to say, once a week? Have a date at home or something?”

“Okay, I can come once a week.”

A flush covered Dean with heat. “Or every day?” he tried hopefully.

Castiel grinned. “Alright.”

Dean stared in astonishment. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I’m not kidding?” Castiel squinted. “If you need me, I’m there. I can clean up, make you dinner. Or look after Emma while you sleep. Or take you out for a date. Or help you with yoga. Or sleep with you, if you want. Cuddles. Or sex. I’d like both.”

Dean’s stomach was tying itself in and out of knots. He wanted Cas there but he didn’t wanna _use_ him. Dean couldn’t promise to find the time to pay attention to a partner, and that worried him. What if Cas showed up for two hours, folded Dean’s laundry, and they never even had a moment to say hi? He didn’t want a maid, he wanted a friend.

“What, what’s upsetting you?” Castiel asked, eyes flicking between Dean’s. “Talk to me, that’s what we’re discussing this for.”

“I just— It’s—” Dean huffed. “Why are you doing this? Offering. What do you think you’re gonna get out of this, exactly?”

Castiel’s pinched brows opened up, and he started to chuckle. “If I’m honest? I don’t know. I’d like to ride the wave and see where it takes us. All I know is that I... um.” He shrugged, eyes darting away, then back. “I felt very much at home in your home. Felt easy. Comfortable. I like your family, your brother, your daughter, and I feel something increasingly more pleasant when I’m around you. I think all of us shared an instant connection, and in my experience those connections rarely wane as time passes. I’ve said it before: I feel good when I can help and support people, and involving myself in your family gave me that contentment I always look for. Call it selfish, or call it self-care – I want more, Dean. A lot more.”

“Community love ain’t the same as one-to-one, huh,” Dean remembered.

Castiel swallowed. He nodded a bit. “As years come and go,” he said, tentatively, “our... our goals change. Our desires, our wants. They evolve as our circumstances do.”

Dean nodded unsurely. “Yeah?”

The pink tip of Castiel’s tongue poked between his lips. “I think your goals changed very quickly, didn’t they? You worked for Save the Children, and then you had a baby. Everything changed overnight. Suddenly you were caring intensively for one child rather than extensively for thousands.”

Dean nodded, wondering where this train of thought was headed.

“You... You met someone,” Castiel said, reaching to touch Dean’s heart. “You met Emma and she changed not only your situation, but the part of you that _wanted_ things.”

“Yeah.”

Castiel exhaled through his nose. “Ever since the orphanage,” he said, slowly, “I’ve wanted only one thing. And then,” Castiel shut his eyes, held them shut, then opened them to gaze imploringly at Dean, “I met you. And maybe for a lot of people, meeting someone special would change everything. The same thing that meeting Emma did for you. But—” He shook his head, “Dean, you’ve changed nothing for me. You’ve amplified what I already knew about myself. And maybe in that sense, you have changed everything. Maybe you have. But.” He gulped. “I don’t just want _a_ family, Dean. Not anyone’s.” His voice faded to a desperate little whisper. “I want yours.”

Dean shut his eyes for a moment. He didn’t know whether to feel grateful or afraid after hearing that. All he felt was a fluttering in his chest, an exhausted flapping bird that wanted to land but didn’t know where was safe yet.

But that bird had been flying over ocean for far too long, and had just spotted land.

Yet, with his hope pushed down, Dean sighed, rolling to face Cas, sliding a hand to rest in the natural dip of Castiel’s hip. “Look, I... I really like you, Cas. I do. Like, _really_-really. But what you’re saying right now... doesn’t sound like you realise what’s gonna come next. You spent one night with us. That snapshot doesn’t even begin to cover the kind of madness we live with, man. I have a _baby_. And for better or for worse, Cas, I intent to devote every god-damn waking moment, every spark of energy, every individual brain cell in my possession to making her life run smooth. Give or take, I got maybe eighteen to twenty-five _years_ of exactly the same crap ahead of me. Not sayin’ I don’t appreciate you wanting to be part of it, and all – but truth is, you’re gonna get forgotten in all of this.”

Castiel smiled. “You misunderstand,” he said. “That’s what I want.”

“What, having your every desire eclipsed by the needs of a crying baby?”

“No. _Helping_ you raise her. Supporting you. Taking half the work. Sharing the joy, halving the pain. Devoting—” Castiel’s breath shook. “Devoting those same waking hours. Same sparks of energy. All my brain cells. For eighteen years... or eighty.”

Dean ran out of thoughts. He stared.

Castiel’s eyes had misted over. “I know I probably sound crazy, Dean. But I had to tell you, because I don’t want to pretend those aren’t my intentions. They have been all along. I want a family. I want a baby. And I want to wake up and not be alone any more. I want something worthwhile to focus on besides my job. And – oh, damn it—” He sniffed, swiping a hand across his face to force away a tear. “I want you to take a moment every day to _stretch_, Dean. And I doubt you’d do that unless I remind you.”

Dean laughed, he couldn’t help it. Castiel sobbed wetly, but laughed too, throat tucking to his jaw as he lay on his back again, staring at the rafters high above.

With a slow sigh, Dean pressed close beside him, still holding his hand.

“Are you actually being serious with me right now?” Dean asked, frowning, then letting it all go, eyes following flecks of dust as they floated in the sunbeam. “You’re not... pranking me, or something.”

“Dean, no. I mean it.”

Dean’s breath shivered. “Jeez.” He flicked his eyes up, took a calming breath. “Gotta be real with you, buddy, that’s kind of terrifying.”

“Which part?”

“The fact I believe you.”

Castiel was smiling when Dean looked over.

Dean started to smile back. His lips trembled, his heart squeezing. “Hey... Cas...?”

“Yeah?”

“While we’re on the subject of crazy ideas...”

  


··· ♡❤♡ ···

  


Dean yawned. He scratched his nose, then rubbed his eyes with the backs of his hands. He blinked _hard_, but his focus on the toddler-care book in front of him seemed even blurrier than before. Letters jumped around, some looking blacker than others, some glowing.

“Hng,” he said, as he tossed his bookmark in, snapped the book closed, and slid down in his bed, arm dangling down to prop the book against the nightstand.

The house was quiet. Ever since Sam got his own place and moved out, finally satisfied that Dean had a hold on things, it was quiet a lot, these nights. Somehow the silence had never been disconcerting, only peaceful. No blender noises in the morning, for one thing. Cas moving in didn’t seem to make any difference at all to the peace. Added to it, actually. The good vibe went where he went.

Dean breathed slowly for a long time, eyes half-open, looking at phantom squiggles on the wall, cast there by the golden lampshade curve.

His back was cold, as the sheets didn’t cover it, and he didn’t sleep in anything but boxers. But rather than pull up the blanket, he waited.

Five minutes.

He heard bare feet padding softly up the hallway to the bedroom door. The swish of a terrycloth robe, the quiet tap of the door closing.

“She asleep?” Dean murmured.

“Getting there,” Castiel answered, undoing his robe. “That monster has been well and truly exorcised, in any case. If she doesn’t become a ghost hunter when she grows up I’ll be very surprised.”

Dean smirked, rolling in the bed to face Castiel, one arm up to hug him as he got close.

“Mm.” Castiel pressed a kiss to Dean’s bare shoulder. “How’s the other arm?”

Dean grunted. “Stupid wheel pose.”

“You _said_ you were ready.”

“Actually, what I said was ‘if I sprain something, I’m suing’, but sure.” He kissed Castiel’s chin, then nosed at his lips. “Whatever makes you feel better, asshole.”

“Sue me, then,” Castiel said, kissing Dean’s cheek... then jaw, then neck.

Dean inhaled slowly, tipping his chin up. “Mm. Sue you for a hundred cuddles.”

“Bargain,” Castiel purred, sucking on Dean’s throat. “Hmmmm.”

Dean smirked, tingling at the sound of that familiar groan. He tousled Castiel’s hair, tipping his head so they could look at each other directly. Dean let himself warm under Castiel’s gaze, admiring his lips, then the darkness in his eyes.

As Castiel leaned in for more kisses, Dean shut his eyes and relaxed, tilting into each smooch, nudging into the pushes.

Castiel pulled back enough to check – Dean nodded, then rolled over to lie on his left, right thigh cocked out to balance his weight, knee dug into the bed.

Castiel snuggled up close, putting kisses on Dean’s neck now, and the back of his shoulder. He pushed himself gently between Dean’s thighs, and Dean sighed, feeling sparkles descend his body. Castiel wrapped both his arms around Dean, and they held tight, starting to push.

“Mm,” Dean murmured, as his body was pressed closer to the mattress, halfway weighed down by Cas.

Castiel wasn’t really a talker, as it turned out – not during sex, anyway. He was a cuddler, though. He squeezed, and pushed, and opened his mouth to puff a hot, humid breath in trembles across Dean’s shoulder.

Dean squeezed his thighs tight, then relaxed, then squeezed again. He shut his eyes and smiled into the pillow, scrunching Castiel’s hand closer so he could kiss it.

“Auh,” Castiel breathed, nosing at Dean’s neck. His face was flushed, Dean could feel his heat. “Ah, _yes_, Dean.”

With a warm purr, Dean began to hump the bed, just gently, enough to give Cas some friction.

They went slow and soft and snuggly. Dean yawned his way through it, and almost napped for some of it, but Cas’ bristly kisses on his neck kept him awake.

“Tired?” Castiel whispered, smiling against Dean’s skin.

Dean moaned faintly, eyes closed.

“Almost done,” Castiel promised. “C’mere.”

He snuck a hand down Dean’s front, and made Dean sigh in pleasure as he took hold. Damn, those hands. Perfect, mind-blowingly strong hands. Two years of handjobs and they were never any less amazing. Dean whimpered, blushing against a cool part of the pillow.

Rocking, rocking, breathing Castiel’s name, he gasped, and finished over Cas’ hand. He let out a low moan, sinking into the nest of blankets, still pressed and pushed by Castiel’s hips.

“Ah—” Castiel’s breath shuddered. “Dean.”

Dean murmured, half-asleep. “Hmm, yeahhh. Feels nice.”

Castiel grinned against him, then groaned deeply, spilling warmth between Dean’s thighs.

“Ooh,” Dean said, quirking an eyebrow playfully.

Castiel smiled. He pulled back, giving Dean’s neck two kisses, then lifting away. “Don’t fall asleep yet.”

“Hmmmwhyyy,” Dean complained, blinking hard to keep himself conscious. He heard Castiel wash up in the ensuite, then come back with a warm, hot towel to clean Dean up.

“Because,” Castiel said, wiping, folding the towel and tossing it into the laundry, then curling up around Dean, smooching him, arms wound around his middle, “the last three times I said I love you, you were snoring.”

Dean grunted. “‘S not my fault.”

“No,” Castiel agreed, nuzzling Dean’s back. “But I hate when you go too long without hearing it.”

Tickled by that sentiment, Dean rolled over enough to meet Castiel’s loving gaze, himself smirking and bleary-eyed. “Since when did I need to hear it? After everything you’ve done, you literally couldn’t make it _more_ obvious you’d move Heaven and Earth for me, dude.”

Castiel shrugged. “I like when _I_ hear it.”

“Mm? You do, huh? Hm. ‘Kay then. In that case.” Dean rolled over completely to face Castiel, entangling their limbs, bare chests together, thighs interlocked. They called this the Two Heart Pose. Dean drew a deep breath against Castiel’s throat, and breathed out, whispering, “I love you to frickin’ Hell n’ back, Cas. You soppy bastard. Hell and frickin’ _back_.” He stroked Cas’ back as he said it.

Castiel kissed Dean’s temple.

Dean felt his smile rise.

  


··· ♡❤♡ ···

  


Dean always had his hands full.

Usually it was in the metaphorical sense – on any given day, he was busy busy busy (probably thinking about the alphabet or fridge magnets or soup), likely somewhat flustered, and almost definitely looking forward to a nine o’clock bedtime story, followed by a yoga wind-down and a cuddle and then _sleep_.

But often, on days like today, like right now—? Walking at a snail’s pace through the park, while Cas held all the bags so Dean was bag-free... Dean’s hands were only full in the literal sense.

Right hand: Emma.

Left hand: Cas.

And standing between them felt like home.

**{ the end }**

**Author's Note:**

> ☆ [reblog art](https://almaasi.tumblr.com/post/187568138775/hey-friends-heres-a-177k-overwhelmed-papadean)  
☆ [reblog fic (summary)](https://almaasi.tumblr.com/post/187568094605/two-heart-pose-by-almaasi-dean-always-has-his)  
☆ [reblog fic (start of fic)](https://almaasi.tumblr.com/post/187567912530/two-heart-pose)
> 
> Most similar fics of mine:  
☞ [Father Material](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3256016) (12k)  
☞ [Nobody's Daddy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1065502) (3k)
> 
> Thank you for reading, friends. Sending overstuffed bags of my love to every corner of this silly little planet!! ♥  
Elmie x


End file.
